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6d · 121
So much
Little town
Little lady
Little bit of shame
Lot a bit of longing
Big fear
Bigger desire
Lost a while
Found even more
In the mountains
On the road
Sorta stupid
Sorta smart
Young mind
Old heart
It’s all a little silly
The world
So much more
Than I thought it would be
Jan 10 · 39
Lillian May Jan 10
Show me your face and I know what love looks like

Touch me and I know what love feels like

Speak to me and I know what love sounds like

Kiss me and I know what love tastes like

It wells up inside me

Pouring from my chest through my eyes and down my cheeks

Trace it with your fingers a moment
Paint on me the very feeling and thought of the moment

Then kiss me a moment too long
Salty tongues and warm cheeks
And sink down into something a little too strong

I know, for because of you, what love is

You are it and
You are mine and
Who am I that I’ve been given this?
Mar 2021 · 96
Lillian May Mar 2021
“Love always” really means “love anyways”
To love always you have to love anyways.

Ugly and confusing and ragged and silly and stupid and irrational and infuriating

I love you anyways. And I will love you always.
Jan 2021 · 83
flickers and flashes
Lillian May Jan 2021
flickers and flashes
my memory of this year
this tiny little lifetime.

forever lives in those flickers and flashes
so long have i known you in this time so brief

we've walked and we've danced and fallen
you and i and our tiny little lifetime
and many more to come

i love you.
Dec 2020 · 194
Observing sadness
Lillian May Dec 2020
Soft and familiar sorrow
but narrated, by me, this time in the third person.
I, the narrator, in this case, feeling by proxy
the sorrow that my love feels now.
A loss he wasn't ready for,
has never endured before,
he cries, and then so I.

And yet there is love.

( Isn't that life?
At the end of every story of sorrow, you
could punctuate with that and it'd be true. )

Oh, how he handles these things, so much love
so much grace.
Even as sadness rolls down his face,
his mind still fixed on things above
Nov 2020 · 84
Lillian May Nov 2020
i love you, my dear, in ways without words
in ways without concepts and describable terms
it doesnt make sense, we've still been through hurts
but being without you, now that would be worse.
Oct 2020 · 173
Lillian May Oct 2020
Lightly given,
her heart to me.
I will never betray.

The secrets of ***,
The way she turned me ‘round her,
As clean as well water.

I cried.
I was in her and taking in what a perplexity she was.

“I, at long last,” says she, “have given you myself.”
She is all I ever wanted.

My lady,
So desirous,
Give me you;
Your tenderness.
Page 247 in my blackout poetry book.
Jun 2020 · 257
Lillian May Jun 2020
"True love"
like True North
points you in the right direction
Jun 2020 · 2.3k
the solidarity of man
Lillian May Jun 2020
solidarity of man

forces of will converging together
in awesome power loudly,
creating a ruckus and smashing the windows of

solidarity of man

cheerful exclamations for
another's achievement
however so small yet
so largely celebrated in glee

solidarity of man

tears of camaraderie fall to our knees
raindrops mix with sunshine and God reveals promises
sometimes the world needs to crumble and crack
to reveal

the solidarity of man
came to me by hearing someone's audio on zoom get fixed and everyone shouted "yay!". humans are cute creatures. applies to everything happening in the world though!
May 2020 · 394
you know it hurts
Lillian May May 2020
you know it hurts,
{like gut-wrenching, ab-clenching, breath lynching hurt}
when you sit in the shower and silently sob.
tears melt with water
steam clouds your sight
gaze up, let it fill your nostrils
drown in water and your plight
Feb 2020 · 205
'Cloud Whisperer'
Lillian May Feb 2020
quiet down now, 'cloud whisperer',
don't you know these fits fade fast
don't you know these delusions of power simply will not last?
the sky does as she pleases
the sun shines as he may
all the pleading,
all the crying,
won't matter anyway.

sorry to say, 'cloud whisperer',
you know your magic isn't real
you know that all that's come and gone will do so as it feels.
the here and now will slip away,
and tomorrow's coming quick
all the wishing,
all the whining,
won't change all life's fun twists.

so quit your rain dance,
put down your spells,
and stop your silly chants.
take a breath and feel the drops,
learn to love this cruel romance.
Jan 2020 · 162
Classical Pianist
Lillian May Jan 2020
classical pianist,
she's starry-eyed like Starry Night
she's got the aura of oil paints
hands like brushwork
swirling and swishing
eyebrows that twitch with every note
the room lowers by the decibels as she breathes
her heart in perfect pentameter with song
like silk running up along a staircase
sound floating thick and rich
the sounds of purgatory between sleep and awareness
no attention to time or reality
she slips away
oh, that classical pianist.

Jan 2020 · 85
snow globe
Lillian May Jan 2020
it snows and with it comes the quiet
quiet little town gets even quieter and snow, see
it's like a warm hand clasping mine in the middle of a deep
sobbing cry
sits down and soothes with a whisper
and a misty breath that shushes till the fit fades
snow softens the blow of reality
and as it freezes the tips of noses it does so with time
Jan 2020 · 287
love, you are
Lillian May Jan 2020
love, you are
so softly unbelievable.
you are so gently terrifying
and beautifully real
youre a dream in reality's clothing
with smoky eyes
and warm hands that fit mine
love, you are
such sweet silly hysteria.
chain-smoking laughter
and kissing right after
youre a tickle at the ribs
with an inside joke
and the curve of laughing lips
love, you are
porch lights through closed eyes
melodies of jazz and soft sighs
slow dancing in old jeans
making poor decisions,
and neglecting routines.
oh, love,
you are the stuff of dreams.
Dec 2019 · 263
A Small Coming Of Age Story
Lillian May Dec 2019

sitting on A stool on a stage
Small and creaky
aroma of coffee and maybe a cigar and sweet casualty in the air
imagine singing your mother’s favorite song to remember her softly
then Coming off stage
(greeted by your love poking your side so laughably irritating)
to sip a now tepid coffee, made by someone who knows your name
as you watch a neighbor go sit on the same stool
singing a song Of funny nostalgia that tickles the sides of your heart
reminding the room of our collective Age
with a chuckle and a smirk exchanged
and recounting the beautiful memories of lives lived in adjacency to one another
that makes up such a quaint Story

imagine that.
Dec 2019 · 99
earths axis
Lillian May Dec 2019
Electric hands on my waist and hips
From behind me you rest your chin on my shoulder and I wish you’d stay there, every piece of you, in perfect shape and scene.
Closing my eyes as if it'd actually freeze time,
but alas the world turned
and that movement of earth which I most never feel
this time ****** me so harshly
out of this painted picture I found myself in
Dec 2019 · 185
Lillian May Dec 2019
air out your grievances, hang them up to dry
but be careful to whom you do,
because a tenderhearted girl I knew
grew a shell, an exoskeleton of caution
to guard herself from heartache and exhaustion
the important things in life are painful to learn
and if it isn't important then what would we earn?
a life without depth, in cold two dimensional existence,
the hardest fight is with your own self-resistance
trust is hard
Lillian May Dec 2019
Dear T,

You always used to tell me you were the devil, that you were heartless,
And I’d always chuckle, say “No you’re not!” And kiss your cheek.
And the truth is I really didn’t believe you, and I never saw you like that.
I think I truly did see all of you, but I focused on the good, and I thought you appreciated, and maybe even loved, that about me.
But maybe I was wrong because, hah, well I broke up with you, I thought amicably enough.
I had closure, I recognized that maybe we just weren’t right or good for each other.
But for whatever reason you felt the need to start **** up again. You knew exactly what to say, what to do, how to act, and I was yours yet again. For some reason you were my achilles heal, and I’ll be ****** if you didn’t know it. I loved you so ******* much. And I truly wanted to believe the best, I fought everyone off, including myself, who thought your intentions were questionable. You knew I would. You knew.
And I hate that you were right. I hate that I said yes when you asked to paint, I hate that when you asked me over I came, I hate that when you said  you needed me I believed you. Maybe you did need me, but you certainly don’t care enough to love me the way I loved you.

I hate it all. And though I’m trying not to, I hate you. I just don’t understand WHY you wouldn’t just stay the **** away from me. Why did you have to tell me all the things you did, made me feel like the most important person in the world, and then toss me away when I was inconvenient for you.
If you were lonely, why not find someone else?
If you didn’t know what you wanted with me, why didn’t you just wait till you did know?
Why did you have to drag me along when you KNEW I would hold on?
Other than the fact that you’re a selfish *****.

I understand you were leaving, that you couldn’t make any promises, maybe that you were confused. But you are the kind of person who can see 4 steps ahead and predict outcomes, so you can’t say that you didn’t know how I would act.
You’ve called me predictable so you can’t say you didn’t know. So all I can wonder is why. What good reason could you possibly have had to yank me around like that, and take advantage of how much I cared about you?
Do you just hate me so much that you didn’t care what would happen if you hurt me?
Was it just simple apathy?
Were you bored?
You can’t say you didn’t think because we both know that’s impossible for you. You always have a move, a goal.
So what was it?

I guess thats all I have to say.
I hate you, I’m trying not to, but right now I do.
And I truly do not understand why you came back. I don’t understand your goal.
Maybe you truly were just bored and are, in fact, heartless. Maybe everything you said about caring about me was a lie, maybe you just wanted to mess around with someone and have decent memories. But why the **** did it have to be me?
not really a poem. Just a letter. sorry this doesn't rhyme, isn't really even all that pretty. just a collection of thoughts
Nov 2019 · 314
funny face
Lillian May Nov 2019
youre my photographer
and im your hepburn(or at some point in a brief glimpse to me we were these) but my face is a little funnier
and neither of us can waltz and
really we aren't even in love like them but
i do however love the sun and the rain in her (hepburn's") old Hollywood voice!
her voice was so picture perfect in that way
and I kind of want to be in love with you (minus the river and that drift wood dancing cause neither of us can dance much less to your ****** gangster rap and definitely not on driftwood) but I also think that being in love with you would be a surprising amount like waltzing to rap music on driftwood on a river
but if there's a world where hepburn has a 'funny face' then who knows maybe we could find a rhythm
or maybe we'd just get very soaked in river water
Nov 2019 · 593
network busy
Lillian May Nov 2019
poems are a bit harder to write
when you dont feel music in your mind

too many tabs open

tv static for feelings

'error 404' for thoughts

poems are a bit harder to create
when you cant keep your sh*t straight
Sep 2019 · 209
and the rest is history
Lillian May Sep 2019
There was a silence.
                 Oh, if he would only be hers entirely;
       not by poor surreptitious evasion but in fulness and in fact.
He had understood her pause.
                "I'm good."  she said with apparent carelessness.
She found it difficult to keep her voice just on the casual note she wanted.
he thought to himself: she's different from me, she's romantic.
                "You just don't trust yourself with me around." he said.
                "It seems a bit funny, we both always knew, but honest I hadn't realized you were beautiful."
                "You're a great kidder."
Oh God, she asked herself, have I handled this right?
leaning on the door jam his body in perfect chiaroscuro
and an omniscient grin
And the rest is history.
Sep 2019 · 606
I'll read it myself
Lillian May Sep 2019
By your presence I am bound.
it must be a great satisfaction to always know,
I am faithfully yours.
I, held open to you, as a book you could read when convenient
light skimming and waiting room sitting.
but I, being never your favorite novel,
was stuck back on the shelf full of "I'll finish it later"'s,
whilst I've written chapter upon chapter on you.
Well chapters are meant to end and books are meant to be read
I'll read my own book then
Sep 2019 · 252
Those were the days
Lillian May Sep 2019
The singing of their tunes
had the very accent of a peculiarly subtle and forbidden zest.
Women did a great deal of desirable ways to kick up dust.

Members of mischief,
In the business,
Just for mischief.

Enjoying a cigarette,
Tell her I’m thought to be a
Bad Woman”
She used to smile to herself to think how much worse than that she really was.
Aug 2019 · 197
Lillian May Aug 2019
Bursting at the seams
with want to paint the exact of my scene
and words so full of my very being but
Oh, knowing the audience all too aptly
Is enough to hesitate me
Lillian May Aug 2019
wouldn't you know it but I
oh I
a little girl wouldn't know it either would I?
no no but I think I feel it
or rather I feel my thinks
can't decipher any of it but a wink
and my thinks think
shouldn't I know it myself?
but nay I keep it all tucked on a very rather pretty little shelf
my thinks didn't label my feels so
im learning the things I didn't know I didn't know
a mystery
even to little me
so how should I be able to answer how do you be?
and I stand here on the edge or the brink
for I can hardly barely breathe as its all coming at me
give me just a moment
to breathe in my feels and my thinks
and perhaps the moment after the moment I'll be
just a little bit more free
lots of **** being thrown my way in the last week. finding out a lot about myself, and finding out things I didn't know I didn't know
Aug 2019 · 299
News flash
Lillian May Aug 2019
New flash.
Just because you are hurt now
In this moment
Does not mean
you can diminish the meaning or the reality
Of a love
A bond
A heart
A time
That’s shared.
Just because it’s broken now
Does not mean it always was.
Appreciate your past. It’s not bad simply because you’re sad now. It was once good, and you should appreciate that.
Jul 2019 · 264
When I think of love
Lillian May Jul 2019
When I think of love  
I think of the tiniest nothings of things that you
Will be or speak or think or do
And driving on Madison Avenue
With the moon in your eyes
And your hand on my thighs
And the sound of our safe and casual sighs
When I think of love
I blush at your perfect peculiarities
like when you grin and tickle my knees
Or grimace at my habit of drinking coffee
With one dimple on your cheek
My tickled knees go weak
Realizing love is such a casual mystique
When I think of love
I think of ours
How we share each others powers
And that I’d be content staring at you for hours
With the ups and downs
The dimpled smiles and rough-day frowns
Cause since you I’ve thought of how
I didn’t much think of love
Real love
before you were around
May 2019 · 159
Taken aback
Lillian May May 2019
I wish you knew
How much it hurts when you
Address me in such a casual hue

I choke and a writhe and I cry
There in my mind
But outside I’m doing just fine

I wish you missed my touch
Even a fraction as much
As I feel that you’re my crutch

I guess that I’ll have to learn
That it’s pointless for me to yearn
For someone I cannot earn

And I could go on how long who knows
About how very little care you’ve shown
And how very little it seems you’ve grown.
What a ****.
May 2019 · 679
the girl with no nickname
Lillian May May 2019
she walks with grace
and a deep, earned sense of place
she smiles
and as laughs tickle at her waist
others around can't help but follow in haste

she has no nickname,
no joke or snicker surrounding her frame
no clever breadcrumbs
to tell the story of how she became
she simply is, and exists as a flame

she has an air of peace,
and a soft, subtle feeling of ease
she opens her lips
and as she speaks
tears from his eyes begin their leaks.
I wonder what or who you picture.
May 2019 · 554
I'm torn (apart)
Lillian May May 2019
I'm torn (apart)
loving the big blue and green eyes that go on for miles when I look into them and the way you look at me with them in all their different flavors like curiosity and soft fondness and fire-like intensity and the way you smile with your one dimple and the way that smile tastes when you pull me in with your strong arms that I know won't let me go because under your breath you say 'mine' as you squeeze me tighter and the feeling of that breath on my skin as we sink deeper into a state of cloudy hysteria and everything in the world feels perfectly in tune as my head is on your chest and your heartbeat is the pentameter of it all.
im torn between that and
this old feeling of dread that as soon as you slip away from me I won't see you or hear your voice and yet you'll be trapped in my thoughts like a favorite song and no matter how hard I try I can't help but feeling like the tune is off somehow and I've forgotten some words but I can't think of which ones but the worst part is I feel like all this noise in my head won't be mirrored in yours and you won't hear the tune or appreciate the melody.

im torn (apart)
this harmony of yin and yang and you give me a head and I give you a heart and how you say "id be a cold-hearted sonofabitch without you" and when I ask if you're proud of me you say "Its rare that im not proud of you" and when I cry you look into my eyes like a blanket on an oil fire calming me down and reminding me where the ground is and you hold my hand when I'm scared and tell me "fear means youre growing, when its over you'll be glad you did it" and you push me to be bold and when you smile and tell me I slow the world down for you and that you like when I stroke your hair because you feel safe for once and how we even each other out softening rigid edges and sharpening dull blades
im torn between that and
knowing that when the harmony is askew we duel with those swords but not with each other, with our respective selves and I start wishing I wasn't too much and you beat yourself up for thinking you aren't enough and the air fills with a solid stench of resentment and confusion and im grasping frantically for answers and bandages as we both sit on the floor hemorrhaging.

torn (apart).
loving you and knowing there are so many beautiful ways we're good for each other
torn between that and
wondering if that's enough to make up for the ways that we ruin the other.
and then I ask "what is love without ruin?" and "love is enough right?"
but im just
torn apart
May 2019 · 191
Lillian May May 2019
fuzzy fretful fantasy fog
Trespassing into my thoughts so loudly
I can hardly hear you say:
“I don’t love you”
Lillian May May 2019
I saw a young man working in a Kroger a few a-little-while's ago.
He was putting bananas in the designated banana display,
and as I passed he smiled to me,
In such a kind, purely, beautifully,
manner. And I smiled back,
as one does,
matching his sincerity I hoped, or what I perceived as sincerity
and anyway he spoke.
Saying hello and inquiring if I was well and I responded that I was and returned the question.
To which he looks around at his current state; being surrounded by a staggering amount of bananas and shrugs and says "having a blast". Which I find humorous,
as one does.
I laugh and he laughs and I continue shopping. I weave through the isles leisurely because it's past 11pm in a small town Kroger and I wasn't quite ready to leave for whatever reason.
I see the pleasant blonde banana Kroger worker get up and proceed to dance to 'Hit Me With Your Best Shot" in a tall uncoordinated jig, singing into a banana which sounds too story-book to be true but alas.
I remember tilting my head involuntarily as a look of curious fondness swept my face.
and I love human moments like this because they're still and unchangingly pleasant, full of what if scenarios for late night can't-sleep thinking.
I left.

Well around Easter time,
well actually precisely on Easter, in the afternoon time I stand checking out my groceries in the self-scanner
as one does
and I see this fascinating young man
yet again,
this time clad in a bunny ears headband, which I find endearing. And I stare a little longer than I probably should have, more than likely wearing a complexly fond expression
yet again.
He meets my dreamy gaze and
surprisingly hold the eye contact for a moment longer than I would normally grant strangers. As we were on our way out he said goodbye to my group.
And, once again, I left.
Left wondering what would have happened if I went up to bunny banana boy and exchanged pleasantries and names
Left wondering if the goodbye was directed to me or everyone
Left wondering if I should shop at Kroger more.
May 2019 · 201
The Human Experience
Lillian May May 2019
The human experience:
Beautiful! Well...
Beautifully packaged and
processed into
unattainable story book ideas and
Impossible poetry and
Left with loose ends that
Feel broken and wrong and incomplete without
Any real feeling of closure or
Completeness leaving us with
Discontent about our reality chasing
A simplified and perfected ideal that’s been
Tweaked and changed to fit what
We think would be considered lovely but.
We’re just reaching for disappointment.
We’re looking to be completed
And perfected
Putting heavy expectations on the phenomenon of
The human experience.
Apr 2019 · 85
Somebody’s something
Lillian May Apr 2019
I am,
nobody’s something.
Nothing special, and yet to know if I’ll remain so. I play an extra in everyone else’s movie. There’s brighter and more beautiful. A more catching story, a slyer smile.
I am,
anybody’s nothing.
They pick me up and consider me for a moment, scrutinizing my rosy eyes and cloudy head, then deciding I’m simply not for them, and set me back down.
I am,
Somebody’s anything.
Sometimes I catch a second glance, a look of possibility and care. I’m taken and toyed with, told I give tunnel vision. But only for my storefront view. As soon as the buyers remorse kicks in I’m blamed for my own heartache.
So what am I?
I’m a cloud in the fog.
A tear in a rainstorm.
A flashlight next to the sun.
I’m there. Here.
Just not significantly existing in a way that makes me
Somebody’s something.
Apr 2019 · 260
Notre Dame, 4.15.19
Lillian May Apr 2019
History was destroyed and made all at once today.
Notre Dame in bright, brilliant flames.
850 years of history, class trips, memories,
singed and gone.
Everything has it's time, I suppose.
But I had a friend who wanted to meet that building,
who wanted to soak in it's secrets and stories.
And now that dream is ashy and unattainable.
Spectacular spire, it fell.
And with it, our hearts.
Mar 2019 · 244
tragically human
Lillian May Mar 2019
Eyes were bright and strong,
a fire.
But those words,
they turn the sharpest wit a flicker.

You ever see much esteem in the world?
Here, at the height of the ornamented, luxurious actress,
representing the varied arts of impersonation.
Here, attention before the other side of the story.

Follow the symbolic whiskey whisper.
Gently evade the central thought of the world,
tragically human.
Mar 2019 · 804
Show Business
Lillian May Mar 2019
Living from day to day by opening cold every morning;
The comedian, in no mood for leisurely reminiscence
how ironic
Feb 2019 · 310
Lillian May Feb 2019
shooting star
blown out birthday candles
penny in the well
my wish is to be a daydream
Feb 2019 · 226
once again
Lillian May Feb 2019
once again you were my stars
every time i saw you i was filled with new wonder
i could stare at you for hours and never be bored
i've written poems about stars before

and once again i was just
well what was i?
what clever metaphor is there for nothing?

i suppose to you i was like a comet.
beautiful, awe-inspiring for a moment.
you couldn't get enough of the sight of me
and then gone from your gaze.

but really im the stars
you just closed your eyes.
Feb 2019 · 510
Lillian May Feb 2019
when we're so close that our lungs share air
our lips touch and we sink
down into a rhythm
perfectly in time that pentameters weep
Feb 2019 · 343
Morningside Park
Lillian May Feb 2019
glimpses of surprise,
I think
     what a book it would make.

I hear the late afternoon cheer
         the honest type
                  lurking behind
                                old Sixth Avenue Road.
I suppose
it is not just a phenomenon of nature that goes instinctively on,
not the appalling detail of any large human scheme, eroded by schedules
But I accept it as one of the miracles.
(Which I never see anywhere else)
Lillian May Feb 2019
I'm not one for Valentine's Day.
Love wrapped up and packaged into superficial nothingness
The meaning, the weight and beauty of love, made less,
stripped away and replaced with balloons and chocolates.
If you love someone you tell them
Tell them with the way you look at them,
with the way you touch them,
buy her flowers because its Tuesday
dress up for him because you wanna take his breath away
falling in love is a whirlwind of involuntary passion
staying in love is an action
showing love is a responsibility, a choice
don't dull the song of love's voice because it shouldn't be loudest but one day a year
interlock your fingers and breathe each other in
not for a holiday, do it for the grin, that blooms on her face more lovely than any roses in a vase OH dear
Love is not just once a year.
I love you everyday of the year.
Feb 2019 · 141
a nod to the before
Lillian May Feb 2019
I recognize my reflection and respect my shadow.
The she I was being only a season or so ago.
A she I prayed I wouldn’t see, and a she I begged to leave.
Air in her ears and sand in her eyes,
Rocks for feet, but still crying out those “why?”s
Wrongly thinking she was anything more than stubborn,
Searching for direction outside the map she’d torn.
Repeating the mantra of denial and lies,
Believeing she was too weak to fight.
Slowly she left me.
Deciding her baggage to be too hefty, she fell away.
And now I'm left free and light,
enjoying the day as I respect the night.
I can dance without the demons on my back,
I've come to peace with the things that I lack.
Aug 2018 · 268
Lillian May Aug 2018
They call **** soul ******;
what would soul **** be?
I believe it's when another,
forces you emotionally.
when your heart needs the slow,
but that pace doesn't satisfy,
then they expect your sun to glow,
but inside only clouds can cry.
because you cannot force the clouds to part,
or change the weather with a glance,
nor should you rush a work of art,
or rely on a silly rain-dance.
Aug 2018 · 679
a funny feeling
Lillian May Aug 2018
I look
               all my life
I hope one day this will belong to someone
Jul 2018 · 336
if they, so i
Lillian May Jul 2018
whilst the plants during winter wait
they wait for warmth and springtime rain
whilst they do so,
the ground welcomes the quiet snow:
if they, so I.
the snow embraces the ground and trees
singing soft and enamoring melodies
the trees do not fret or cry spitefully,
but instead appreciate the cold beauty:
if they, so I.
there is pain in the wait, but joy as well
a chest for two reasons could easily swell
with anger or laughter and it is a choice,
we the tuners the tone of our voice:
if they, so I.
what does that mean?
why love the snow that hides summer's green?
why must we wait to enjoy the sun?
so I say, the flowers still bloom when their time come:
if they, so I.
Lillian May Jul 2018
it makes me retract
pull away
quickly, urgently, full of fear
like a burnt hand from a flame
my daddy always said
"The burnt hand teaches best"
words I live by too
but my momma tells me not to be afraid
tells me not to let fear rule me
caution will always be the enemy of life
life with meaning anyway
but I don't know how to change my mind
because it went from eager, quixotic thoughts
to fear and what we'd almost call disgust
in a moment my brain derailed my train of thought
changed it's course
and I keep asking the conductor what's wrong, what happened
why my feelings changed, fleeted so fast
he just shrugs apathetically
we're all confused here
my heart is so pathetically delicate I think
so easily frightened
reminiscent of a fawn I imagine in my mind
and it frustrates me
mostly because I didn't used to be like this
and I don't know how to change it back
and it's my own? so why I can't seem to figure out my own inner workings is perplexing
and disgruntling
I guess the best way to describe my mind right now
would be
a confusing, fiery train wreck
just like this poem
*conductor shrugs and so do I*
Jul 2018 · 464
watercolor paints
Lillian May Jul 2018
there are so many different kinds and
so many different artists with respective training
let me tell the story of one
she liked to let go
she didn't like lines
the cloudiness of watercolor she found no woe
flowing with ease
the water went where it pleased
without tedious thought
it took the 'pain' out of painting
she was able to feel the art and the thoughts and the feelings
that art should inflict on a soul
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